


Show Love With No Remorse

by knitbelove (ladymac111)



Series: The happy ending is when things are going to begin for me. [1]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Leaver's ball, M/M, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Present Tense, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7283575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymac111/pseuds/knitbelove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Watford Leaver’s Ball wasn’t as good of a party as I’d hoped.  But it was worth the drive and the posh clothes to see Baz, to spend one last night at Watford with him -- and one last morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Love With No Remorse

**Author's Note:**

> “Dosed” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers
> 
> Show love with no remorse and  
> Climb on to your seahorse and  
> This ride is right on course
> 
> This is the way, I wanted it to be with you  
> This is the way, I knew that it would be with you
> 
> Soundtrack for this story: [“On love’s light wings” playlist on Spotify](https://play.spotify.com/user/129963216/playlist/4OObjjIexph0T8CYwB1pzz)
> 
>  
> 
> [Companion art at my Tumblr](http://knitbelove.tumblr.com/post/146438084892/show-love-with-no-remorse-companion-fic-to-this)

_-Simon-_

Sneaking into the Watford kitchens with Baz was everything I hoped it would be.  We made a couple of monstrous sandwiches and wolfed them down right there, standing over the counter and enjoying our ill-gotten snack.  After we put things away we stayed a few minutes longer, kissing one another in the semi-darkness, not burdened by the eyes of our classmates and teachers.  It’s been weeks -- months, really -- since we were last together, since the last time I kissed him.  Now that I’ve got the taste of him on my lips again it feels like the only thing in the world I want is him.

Eventually I said we should go back to the ball, be at least a little social, since this is our last chance.  I didn’t think I’d get a last chance at all, but here we are, so I’m going to take it.

The party remains as depressing as it was when I arrived, and I think there are fewer people now.  It’s still immensely awkward, being here with my former classmates.  Not many of them come and talk to me -- to us.  I don’t know how much of that is me being the fallen Chosen One, and how much of it is me stuck like glue next to Baz (who, for all his being top of the class and everything, is still a snooty arse), and how much of it is that literally everyone saw us dancing and kissing half an hour ago.

I mean … it’s not that I think they have an issue with us being gay.  We’re not even the only gay couple here, and nobody else is being avoided; it’s definitely just us.  But everybody knew how much Baz and I hated each other.  It was our _thing_.  And now suddenly I’m back at Watford and we’re together with pretty much no explanation.  I’m sure they find it weird.  Confusing.  Inexplicable.  (Sometimes it still feels that way to me, and I’m in the middle of it.)

Headmistress Bunce does come by us at one point, when we’ve found ourselves standing at the punchbowl again, and tells us how nice we look together.  She already knew we were a couple, of course, and gives us a little knowing smirk before she meanders away again.  She makes me wish Penny was here.  She’s the only one who never acted like me and Baz being together was unnatural.  She even said it made sense, which I found a little baffling.

Baz seems as frustrated with the ball as I am, but he sweet-talks me into one last dance on the patio.  This song isn’t as slow as the one we danced to before, so I do actually have to try to move my feet instead of just swaying with him.  I don’t think it’s going very well, but Baz seems to be having a fairly good time, especially once I give up and relax and just sort of let him move me around.  I do like being in his arms like this, and the song is one I actually know and quite like.  (Recently Penny and I have been rattling around the Bunces’ house on our own a lot, since Mitali has been here at Watford and Martin has been out at the holes more and more.  Recently we’ve been passing a lot of time with Pacey's CD collection, which leans rather heavily on the Red Hot Chili Peppers.)

_This is the way I wanted it to be with you..._

Baz definitely knows the song too, which would have surprised me a week ago -- but over the past six months he’s been constantly surprising me with his musical taste.  Last weekend when the new Chili Peppers album dropped, he called and talked my ear off about it for nearly an hour.  And, like, it’s good, but I don’t understand his enthusiasm.  Until last week I didn’t even know he was into them, but apparently he’s obsessed.

I do like this song, though.  Baz sings little bits at me while we dance: “ _This is the way I knew that it would be with you..._ ”

And then at the instrumental break at the end he leans in and kisses me, and it’s soft and sweet and so full of feeling, and I think that this might be the best moment of my life so far.  I don’t care that people are watching, I don’t care that Baz still tastes a bit like horseradish from his sandwich -- actually I sort of like that.  I don’t care that I’m awful at dancing because Baz is _great_ at it and this is for him, this is all for _him._

He draws back as the final chord fades out, and I’m a little bit thrown off balance by the kiss ending, and then that the next song isn’t the one that comes next on the album.  But I forget that when Baz gives me a brief peck on the temple and then takes my hand.  “I’m about done with this.”

I find I’m still a little breathless from being snogged so well.  “Yeah, me too.”

He smiles and leads me away from the party, out of the lights that have been strung up around the courtyard.  I follow him easily, gladly, across the grass in the direction of Mummers House -- but after a minute he seems to realise something and pauses.  “Sorry, I was assuming -- er.  Are you staying tonight?”

I give him a smile.  “Yeah, I am.  Penny left hours ago and I already put my bag upstairs.”  I was a bit worried that the room wouldn’t open for me.  And it didn't at first, so it was a good thing Penny had me bring a pocket knife.  I had to draw blood on a fingertip to let myself in.

Baz squeezes my hand.  “I’m glad you came,” he says softly.

“Me too.  I didn’t want you leaving without me.”

He starts walking again and tips his chin up, looking at the sky that’s finally got dark.  The stars out here are amazing, billions and billions of them scattered across the sky.  Though tonight the moon is just past full, and it’s so bright it makes the stars slightly more difficult to see.  On a dark night here I can usually see the Milky Way, but not right now.  Two weeks ago at the new moon it would have been gorgeous.

We take our time crossing the campus.  It’s a lovely night, and nobody else is out -- they’re either at the party, or have already left.  When we get to the dormitory I have to let go of his hand to climb the stairs to our tower, but he stays right beside me anyway.

And then we’re in the room, and he turns on the lamp next to his bed, which gives everything a warm golden glow.  When I stopped up here before it felt weird, impersonal, like it was only his -- which I suppose it was.  But now he touches my arm while he steps around me to his wardrobe and I feel at home again, I remember how much I’ve missed this place.  It’s the only home I’ve ever had, and Baz is the closest thing to family.

His wardrobe is empty except for a garment bag and his uniform, which gets left here and then I guess something happens with it once the students are gone.  Baz takes off his jacket and hangs it up, then pulls off his bow tie and stuffs it in a jacket pocket.  He gives me a sidelong glance while he begins unbuttoning his waistcoat.  “All right, Snow?”

My mouth is dry, and I realise I’m feeling anxious.  I try to swallow.  “Sure.”

He furrows his brow.  “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head.  “I just … I …”

He puts his hand on my arm, and we both sit on the edge of his bed.  “Are you nervous about spending the night here?  About being at Watford again?”

“No, I’m not.  I mean, I …”  I run a hand through my hair.  It’s kind of crusty and a little sticky from the product -- it’s kind of gross and I don’t think I’ll be doing anything like that to it again.  “It’s not about being here, it’s not about the Mage.  I’m not nervous about staying here tonight, but … I mean, I--”

I've figured out what it is, but I find I can’t get it out; the thing I’m trying to say is sticking in my throat and I can’t look Baz in the eyes.  He lays his hand on mine and holds it gently.  “What is it?”

“I’m not ready to sleep with you.”  It comes out a little too loud, too forceful, and I feel Baz lean back a fraction.  He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and I feel my face burning.

But then he giggles, and it’s beautifully awkward, and he squeezes my hand.  “Simon, I’m not expecting you to sleep with me tonight.”

I look up, and he’s watching me softly, his hair falling on his cheeks.  “You’re not?” I say.

“No, I’m not.  Honestly?  I’m not ready either.”

Which is absolutely not what I expected him to say, and it’s a gigantic relief.  “Really?”

“Really.”  He leans backwards across his bed and tucks his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling.  “I know it’s supposed to be, like, a thing, I guess?  To do it for the first time on the night of the Leavers Ball.  But I thought about it and I decided we’re not ready.  I’m not ready.”

I lean back as well, rest my head on his arm and fold my hands on my chest.  “I’m glad you think so, too.”

He picks his head up and kisses my forehead.  “You should get out of that suit.  It looks lovely but I don’t reckon it’s comfortable.  And I’m sure Dr Wellbelove doesn’t want to get it back all wrinkled.”

I huff a laugh and pick myself up from the bed.  “Yeah, okay.  My wings are feeling weird anyway, it’s difficult holding them still for so long.”

He sits up and watches me open my duffel bag and take out the pyjamas I brought.  “What have you done with your wings, anyway?  I didn’t notice them at all before.  Are they incorporeal?  Your tail isn’t.”

I frown.  “I don’t really know, actually.  I do have them folded up against my back, but there’s more to it than that.  Penny and Dr Wellbelove figured something out that makes shirts fit normally, and I think there’s a separate thing to make everything invisible.”

“That must be nice.  Last time I saw you they only had **_There’s nothing to see here_ ** , but that just made people ignore you.”

Last he saw me in person was at the beginning of April, during his Easter holiday.  It feels like it’s been an awfully long time since then.  “Yeah, that’s not a great one.”

“Have you been seeing much of the Wellbeloves?” he asks, and I can’t quite read his tone.

“Not a whole lot,” I say, gathering my pyjamas.  “Not any more.  Penny and her dad talk to them sometimes, and they lent me the suit, but with how things ended between me and Agatha it’s … awkward.”

“I’m sure I don’t help.”

“I don’t care,” I say, stopping beside him on my way to the bathroom.  “It doesn’t matter what they think of you, or of me for being with you.”

His face softens.  “Really?”

“Yeah.”  I smile at him.  “I made my choice, and it’s you.  I don’t care who knows.”

He stands up and kisses my cheek.  “Go get changed.”

I go into the bathroom to change my clothes -- Baz and I haven’t spent all that much time together since we became a couple, and I’m definitely not prepared to change clothes in front of him yet.  I get the feeling he’s not prepared for that, either.

Everything we’ve done together so far has been … really innocent.  That first night we were together in Hampshire we went farther even than we have since.  Not because we haven’t wanted to -- I definitely want to, and I’m sure he does too.  Well, I want to _now._  But since I’ve started wanting to again, we haven’t really had the opportunity.  While we were apart we talked on the phone and texted a lot, but it’s not the same as physically being together.  He came to see me at the Bunces’ in London twice during the term, but when he did we mainly just held hands, talked a little bit, cuddled on the couch and watched _Top Gear._  It was lovely -- it was exactly what I needed from him at the time -- but now I want more than hugs and chaste kisses.

And I got some of that this evening, at the ball.  And then in the kitchen.  Holding him (letting him hold me), kissing him, declaring ourselves to the world -- well, to everyone at Watford.  It was _amazing,_ and it definitely bodes well for what’s going to happen tonight.  When I planned this I didn’t think that much about what we would do, but I was definitely hoping to … progress our relationship.  Whatever that winds up meaning for us.  (Not sex, obviously.  But I would love to get back to _really_ snogging, that was very nice indeed.)

I’ve been standing here looking at myself in the mirror for a couple minutes, still holding Dr Wellbelove’s velvet suit jacket.  It’s ridiculously posh, and I kind of felt like a tit wearing something so fashionable.  But if I let go of that I did look quite nice in it, and I could tell Baz liked it as well, so it was worth it.

I can hear Baz moving around out in the room, and I refocus.  As nice as the suit is, it’s also fairly uncomfortable -- a bit snug through the shoulders -- so I’m glad to change it for my pyjamas. It was weird, at first, not wearing the Watford-issued ones like I always have, but I found something I like: dark tartan bottoms that used to be Pacey’s and a short-sleeve t-shirt that they spelled so my wings don’t get caught in it.  Technically they did that to all my shirts, but something about this one is especially comfortable, so it’s the one I sleep in.

I give my wings a good shake while I’m still in the bathroom -- if I know where they are and I look closely I can actually kind of see them in the mirror.  I try to catch glimpses while I brush my teeth.

When I come back out Baz has changed into his pyjamas as well, and he’s wearing thick socks.  “I’m guessing you want the window open?” he says.

“Yeah, thanks.”  It’s a little weird for him to actually anticipate my preference instead of whinging about it, but I’m certainly not going to complain.  The window opens quietly when he pushes on it, and a cool breeze comes in.

I put away my clothes in my bag, and then look at the bed, which doesn’t have any sheets on it -- it’s just the bare mattress and a couple of pillows.  I didn’t make it up yet, and Baz didn’t while I was in the bathroom.  It occurs to me we didn’t actually discuss sleeping arrangements.

Baz clears his throat.  “So, er, just to clarify.”  He scratches the back of his neck.  “When you said you weren’t ready to sleep with me, you meant sex, right?  Not, like, actually sleeping.”

He’s astonishingly cute when he’s being awkward; I smile at him and perch on the edge of the bed that used to be mine, and try to quiet the way my heart started pounding when he said _sex_.  “No, yeah.  Actually sleeping is fine.”

He climbs onto his bed and sits cross-legged, facing me.  “Do you want to sleep in my bed?” he says softly.  “I mean, we could make up your bed if you want, but I’d like to have you in with me.  I’ve wanted it for such a long time and since this is our last chance--”

“Baz,” I interrupt.  “Yes.”

He seems thrown off his balance and blinks at me blankly.  “Yes?”

“Yes, I want to sleep in your bed.”

“Oh!”  He drops his eyes to his hands in his lap, like he’s trying to hide how big he’s smiling.  “Okay.”

“I’m not really tired yet, though,” I say, and he looks back up at me.

“I’ve got my laptop.  We could watch a movie or something.”

“A movie would be fun.”  I get up just enough to switch over to sitting on his bed, and grab one of my pillows.  “What do you have?”

He shrugs, standing up and going to grab his computer off his desk.  “Netflix.”

I blink at him.  “There’s _wifi_ in here?  When did that happen?”

“Couple of months ago.  You didn’t know?”  He plops down beside me and arranges himself so he’s half-sitting against the headboard, laptop on his knees.  “The whole school has wifi now, thanks to Headmistress Bunce.”

“We were really living in the dark ages before, weren’t we?”  The corner of his mouth curls up at that, and I watch him sign in to Netflix.  “Is that your dad’s account?”

“Yes, what of it?”

I move to sit beside him, angled a bit so my wings aren’t squished behind me.  This means I’m curled into his side, and he tilts his head towards me.  “I just thought maybe you’d have your own account,” I say.

He shrugs.  “No reason to.  But I do have my own profile.  Father and Daphne watch things I have no interest in, so I don’t want their taste messing with my recommendations.”

“I’m sure your sisters watch awful things, too.”

He rolls his eyes.  “They’re unbelievably atrocious.  But they’re also children, so I can’t judge them too harshly.  Yet.”

I laugh and lean my head on his shoulder.  “So what are we going to watch?”

He sighs.  “I don’t know.  Did you watch series three of _Sherlock_ yet?”

I grimace; he’s really into that programme and he wants me to watch the special that came out in January with him.  But he insists I need to be up to speed on the rest first, and I keep forgetting.  I've asked him why he won't just watch series three with me, but he says he can't watch the second episode again because it hurts too much, so I'm on my own. “No.  Sorry.  Maybe something else that actor is in?”

“There’s only two movies, I already checked.  One is _The Hobbit_ which we watched last time, and the other is terrible.”  I know he’s disappointed; he has a crush on the actor who plays Watson and I like to tease him about it.

He clicks through to his queue and we scroll slowly until something catches my eye.  “Is that the Doctor?”

He clicks to bring up the details.  “Yeah, David Tennant. I was thinking of you when I added it.  It looks like it might be kind of ridiculous, some kind of romantic comedy.  Straight people.”

“I wouldn’t really expect anything less from a movie called _The Decoy Bride_.  Want to give it a try?”

“Sure, I guess.  We can always stop if it’s terrible.”

“Yeah.”

He settles himself down into a reclined position with the computer propped up on his thighs, and I curl up against his side, one arm around the back of his neck.  He leans his head against my shoulder and presses play.

“What were you planning on doing tonight?” I ask, after the first scene while the opening credit sequence is playing.  “Before I showed up.”

He glances up at me.  “Dunno.  Probably ring you and then watch old episodes of _Top Gear._ ”

“Ooh, well I’m sorry I took you away from such a thrilling evening.”

“Shut up,” he says, but I can hear him smiling.  “You should feel sorry for your boyfriend who has the social life of a particularly lonely squid.”

I can’t help laughing.  “It can’t be that bad.”

“Well, I mean, I do _have_ friends, I’m not Bunce.  But everyone’s busy and preoccupied.  Even Dev and Niall haven’t really had time for me these days.  They’ve been different since I told them about you and me.”

“This is getting depressing,” I say.  “Let’s just watch the movie.”

“But it’s just faceless brides in dresses right now.”

“They kind of look like squids though, don’t they?  I thought you’d like that, seeing as you’re such a lonely squid.”

“Shut _up,_ Snow!”  He gives my knee a good-natured punch, and I take his wrist and press a kiss to his knuckles just as the scene and music changes.

From there the film engages us for a while.  After a bit Baz shifts around a little, re-settles his head against my shoulder with a barely-audible sigh.

I set my hand on his stomach and rub in little circles, and he goes limp for a second before he catches himself.  “ _Crowley_ , have a care, Snow.”

“What?”

“Don’t just _do_ that to me, I almost dropped the computer.”

I grin down at him, feeling mischievous.  “Are you telling me you like tummy rubs?”

He frowns and keeps his eyes on the screen.  “Yes.”

“I promise to only use this knowledge for evil.”

I can see the corner of his mouth twitching as he tries not to smile.  “Piss off.”

I wrap my free arm around his chest, and he sets his alongside it.  His skin is cool and soft against mine and I settle against him again, amazed that this can possibly be my life, snuggling with this boy in our room while we watch a movie.  It barely seems real.

The movie continues, complete with comic misunderstandings and a quirky Scottish heroine and a silly scene with bagpipes.  I’m a bit surprised to find I’m actually enjoying it.  When it gets to the end I’m drowsy enough that I get a bit misty-eyed when the couple inevitably gets together, and I don’t want to let go of Baz when he stands up to put the computer away.

“You’re clingy,” he murmurs as he steps back over to me.

“Can you blame me?”

He doesn’t answer, but gives me a gentle smile and leans down for a quick kiss.  “You can get comfortable.  I have to brush my teeth.”

“Your fangs?” I ask his retreating back.

“All of them!” he says, pushing the bathroom door shut.

I try not to listen to the sounds of him in the bathroom.  I tried not to listen to him back when we lived together, and I’m not sure if it’s worse now, or better.  Back then I was just trying to ignore him altogether, but now it feels like being aware of him is an invasion of his privacy, like it’s something far too intimate for how young our relationship is.

I focus on trying to get comfortable in his bed instead, while still leaving what I think is room enough for him.  First, I definitely need my own pillow, so I grab one from my old bed.  I try to settle down on my side, but I feel too close to the edge of the bed.  If I stretch my wings out I can feel the space, and then the other mattress, which makes it feel like I’m going to fall into the gap.

I give up with that and try lying on my back.  It’s never comfortable for long any more, with the new anatomy.  But it’s good enough now, and the extra limbs help disguise the fact that the lumps in Baz’s mattress don’t feel anything like the lumps in _my_ mattress.

He comes out again a minute later, switches off the light and climbs into bed beside me.  The mattress is awfully narrow, his hip is pressed right up against me, but I think we can make this work.  I’m only covered with a sheet, and Baz reaches for the duvet.

“Don’t,” I say, and he gives me what I’m guessing is a surprised look, though I can’t really see him in the dark.

“Why?”

“Too warm.”

“I’ll be cold without it.”

“You’ve got me,” I say, touching the back of his shoulder.  “I’ll be your hot water bottle.”

He makes a little sighing sound, but leaves the duvet where it is at the foot of the bed and lies down on his side, settles one knee on my leg in a way that strikes me as both bold and hesitant.  I want to encourage whatever he’s doing here, so I wrap my arms around him, and instead of laying his head on his pillow he presses closer against me and leans down for a kiss.

He tastes like mint and I hold him tighter, pressing up to deepen the kiss, opening my mouth against his and reeling from a stab of pleasure when he does the same.  It’s electric, powerful; I’m buzzing with the sensation of him in my arms.  And the way he’s moving, how his one hand is trailing slowly down my side -- it’s like I can feel what he’s feeling.  Like I know for certain that we’re on the same page.

He rolls more on top of me, pressing his knee between my legs and cradling my face in his hands.  I tighten my arms around his back; I’ve never felt so close to him.  I think maybe I’ve never _been_ so close to him.  I’m touching him from forehead all the way to ankles, the weight of him is pressing me into his bed, and his tongue is in my mouth, slowly driving me insane.

I drag my teeth over his tongue, almost biting, and he gasps and bumps his hips into me.  And that’s when I notice the part of his body I’ve sort of been trying not to think about tonight.  Not because I’m not interested, but -- more like it’s just way too much to consider right now.

I can’t help but consider it, though, with the evidence right there.  Poking my thigh.  Insistently informing me that yes, the theory was correct, it _does_ exist.  Baz wants me.  Physically, carnally.  And, _god_ , I want him too, but I’m really not prepared for what I’m feeling right now.

Baz seems to notice my withdrawal into my head, and leans up slightly.  “Simon?”

I’m not really sure what to do but blink at him.  “Yeah?”

He’s panting a little, and seems confused.  I want to kiss him again but he doesn’t lean down.  “I --” he begins, but stops again.  “I don’t know, I thought maybe you … something.”

“Oh, right.  Sorry.”

He waits, like he thinks I’m going to say more, but I don’t know what to tell him.  Finally he rolls off me a little and rests his head on his pillow.  “You okay?”

“Yeah.”  I reach over and take his hand, squeezing his fingers.  “Yeah, I’m okay, I just got distracted.”

“Distracted?  I’d think the snogging _was_ the distraction.”

I can’t help but giggle awkwardly, and he snuggles closer again.  “The snogging ... _caused_ the distraction, I think?”

He makes a little _oh_ sound, like he got slapped in the chest, and takes his leg off mine, pulls his hips away.  “Shit, Simon, I’m sorry--”

“No,” I say, gripping his hand and trying to get my other arm under his neck, around his shoulders.  “No, it’s okay.  I like it, don’t apologise.”

He’s stilled now, under my touch, but he feels tense.  “I just … I know you don’t want to do … that much.  I got carried away, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s all right, I don’t mind.”

“I know, but, still … I’m glad you stopped me.  Because I wasn’t about to, and I don’t want to pressure you, and I’m not ready either but I might have done it anyway.”  The words are spilling out of him; he’s nervous-babbling.  “And I really don’t want to do it if we’re not really ready.”

“I know,” I say, as gently as I can.  “And it’s okay.  I’m not upset.”

He seems like he’s holding in more words, then breathes a sigh and relaxes a fraction.  “I just thought maybe I was going too much too fast.”

“You haven’t done anything I don’t want,” I say, and he squeezes my hand.

“It’s just … I was touching you, and it was like I couldn’t control myself, once I’d touched you like that.  I wasn’t really expecting to get so … excited.”

“Neither was I.  I liked it, though.”

“It’s just, it was … it was kind of … sexual.  I thought you didn’t want that.”

I feel my heart speeding up again, the way he says _sexual._  God, it really doesn’t take much, with him.  He makes me feel flammable.  “I do want that,” I whisper.  “I really do, I promise.  I just want to take our time.”

He nods -- I can’t really see it in the dark, but I can feel it, and he leans in for another kiss, a chaste one, before he lies down again.  “Good.  Me too.”

I get the feeling that he’s still a little shaken, and I wish I could bring myself to talk to him about this right now, to explain myself.  But it’s hard to say out loud, even in the dark with him, when we’ve just been so intimate.

I’ve never been tremendously interested in sex. I wondered a couple times if maybe something was wrong with me.  Especially as time had gone on with Agatha -- the interest I used to have in being physical with her was all but gone by the end.  I think Penny was probably right about us.  By the time Agatha broke up with me it wasn’t really her that I wanted, it was just the idea of her, of being with her.  Just something familiar.  So it was good that she ended it, because it wasn’t doing anything for either of us.

But things are different now, with Baz -- _very_ different.  I’m interested in things I’ve never wanted before.  It’s wild, it’s a rush -- and doubly so because I can tell he wants things too, and I think maybe they’re the same things that I want.  I wish I could bring myself to tell him this, in so many words.  It would simplify things.

I have to fall back on physicality.  Not fighting, any more.  But I find saying things with actions easier than saying them with words.  It just gets hard when some of those actions are a little bit scary, for their newness.  They’re loaded.

Hand-holding is good, though.  It’s familiar; it became familiar almost instantly for us.  I’m still holding one of Baz’s hands right now, lying on my chest, and his other arm is folded up between us, against my side.  I rub his shoulder gently with my left hand, and he shifts his weight a bit more into me again.

“This is our last night here,” Baz says quietly.

Our last night at Watford.  My last night at Watford.  “I know.”

He lifts up on his elbow and turns so he’s looking down at me.  I think he can probably see me fairly well in the dark, and with the window open there’s enough moonlight coming in that it illuminates half of his face.  He looks thoughtful, gazing at me, so I just stay quiet, watching him.  I’m still holding his hand in mine, against my chest, and I let my other hand rest on his waist.

Finally his tongue darts out to moisten his lips.  I think he’s going to kiss me again, but he doesn’t lean in.  Instead he takes a careful breath, and then he speaks, so low it’s almost a whisper:

“Simon?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

There’s a sensation in my chest I’ve never felt before, and it’s difficult to breathe.  I can barely believe what I heard, and I feel kind of strange all over, like my skin is too tight.

_He loves me._

We lie there in silence for a long moment, which grows more and more awkward. Baz licks his lips again and glances down at our hands, away from my face.  “You don’t ha--”

“Baz,” I interrupt, squeezing his hand and tightening my arm around him, holding him close; I’m afraid he’s going to pull away and that’s the last thing on earth I want.  “No, I mean, I --”  I stop; he’s watching me, eyes wide and expectant.   _I have to tell him._

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to centre myself, then reach up and lay my hand against his cheek.  “I love you too.”

“Oh, Simon.”  He makes a little huffing noise that might be a laugh or a sob, I’m not totally sure.  Then he wraps himself around me and leans his head down on my shoulder, holding me tightly.

My heart is pounding as I slide my fingers through his hair, hold him against my side.  I love him, _I love him,_ and I just told him so.  And _he loves me._  He loves me and he’s holding me in his bed and maybe I’m imagining it but I think he’s trembling a little bit.

We lie like that for a long time.  I think I doze off a little, and I’m pretty sure he does too, because he doesn’t react the first time I shake his shoulder.  He does the second time.

“What.”

“Roll over.”

“Ngh.”  He flops onto his back, and seems to wake up a little when his arm falls off the side of the bed.

Now that he’s not lying on my shoulder I can shift onto my side and stretch my wings out behind me.  The space doesn’t seem to bother me now, since I’ve got him beside me.  “Careful,” I murmur.  “This bed’s not really wide enough for two.”

“Yeah,” he says, shuffling back towards me a couple of inches.  “G’night, Simon.”

I lay my arm across his chest and settle into my pillow.  “Good night.”

 

 

_-Baz-_

 

The sun comes up far too early, and the window being open means I wake up to it.

Simon is curled up against my side, still fast asleep, warming me even though we slept under only a thin sheet, not the mountain of covers I normally do.  It’s insanely comfortable, and I can’t help thinking I’d love to get used to this.  I probably shouldn’t, since we won’t be living together until … well, until we are.  I don’t know when that will be.  I’m guessing -- I’m hoping -- that it _will_ happen, but we haven’t looked that far ahead.  All we know is what’s happening in the next couple of months, with us both in London but living at different addresses.

His arm tightens around me and he makes a grumbling noise into his pillow.  I don’t think he’s awake.  Not fully, anyway.

I don’t want to think about how I’m going to have to let go of Simon, even if it’s only temporary.

We talked a lot last night, more than we have in months, and it went so much better than I’d planned.  I knew that he wanted to be my boyfriend, that he still wanted to, even after everything that happened in the winter and spring.  But we haven’t talked about it much.  We haven’t talked about _us_ much, only really about things that were small, were safe.  That didn’t really matter.

And then he surprised me, by coming _here,_ and he let me talk with him while we were dancing, _really_ talk.  Say the hard things.  And then before we fell asleep….

I did actually plan out telling him I love him.  Not terribly far in advance, but I did plan.  I’ve been thinking about it vaguely for months, and I’d intended to do it some time in the next couple of weeks, after I moved.  Then while we were watching that silly movie I decided this was it, I had to tell him _now,_ I didn’t want to wait any more.

I had kind of told him before.  I don’t know if he remembers, though.  The first time was the night that everything went completely to shit, I called him “love” without thinking about it because it was the only thing I could bear to call him in the middle of all that blood and death.  Once that got behind us I wasn’t sure I was ready to actually take that step, to be that open with him about my feelings.  So I didn’t do it again.

Until last night.

Him saying it back was everything I ever wanted, except for the part when I realised I sort of pressured him into it.  Only sort of, though.  I think.  I’m pretty sure his hesitation was mainly just that I surprised him.  I didn’t think it was that much of a surprise, but … well, he’s Simon Snow.  I mean, after the ball where I said I’ll never change my mind about him, that I love him was pretty much implied.  I guess I can’t be too surprised that he didn’t get to that until I actually came out and told him.

He shifts and rolls away from me a little bit, yawns and stretches his arm over his head.  “Morning,” he mumbles.

“Good morning.”

“You been watching me sleep again?”  His voice is rough and sexy.

I laugh.  “No.”

He smiles and hums contentedly, then rolls back into me and lands a kiss on the side of my mouth.  “I love you.”

My heart jumps, and I tighten my arm around his shoulders.  “I love you too.”  It feels so weird to say it out loud.  It feels amazing.

“I wanted to say it to you first this time,” he says, just barely opening his eyes against the bright morning sun.  “Just so you know I really mean it.”

I gather him into my arms, and he giggles and throws his leg over mine.  “You absolute clot,” I say fondly.  “I can’t believe you don’t know you’re the world’s best boyfriend.”

“I’m not,” he mumbles from the middle of my chest.  “I told you at the beginning, I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

“You’re the best,” I say again, and I let him pick up his head to kiss me.  “Your kind of terrible is exactly what I want.”

“That’s fucked up,” he says with a grin.

I pull him into another kiss, a deeper one.  He’s warm and soft and wonderful and I love the way his wings stretch and flutter behind him while he gives me a thorough snogging, it makes my heart beat even faster.

It makes me _excited,_ and being that I just woke up I don’t really need the help with that, and I don’t want to make him uncomfortable again either.  It's tricky, balancing embarrassment over my obvious arousal with the arousal itself. Like, I don't want him to know how much I want him, but also I _really_ want him to know.  But right now he’s pressing against me, warm and solid, and even though he’s half on top of me and has one of his legs wrapped around one of mine he’s giving me just enough space that I don’t feel like I have to try to pull away.

Which is good, because that’s the last thing in the world I want right now.  Simon is probably the best kisser on the planet, and what he’s doing with his mouth right now feels like worship.  I could do this forever.  I _would_ do this forever.  Nothing is better than Simon lying on top of me and snogging my brains out.

Until he shifts and then it’s _his_ arousal pressing into _my_ hip.  It’s just a little but I’m certain it’s there and the realisation steals my breath right out of my lungs.  “ _Fuck._ ”

Simon draws his head back, startled, and his tail lashes to the side, upsetting the sheet.  “Okay?”

“Oh _Crowley_ yes,” I gasp, and pull him back down again with both hands on his face.

He laughs and crushes me with a kiss, and we tangle on the bed for another few blissful minutes.  I don’t know if he knows he’s got half an erection and that my heart skips a beat every time he moves against me, but I don’t care, I really don’t; everything about this is simply too good for me to be concerned with anything else.

Eventually he stops kissing me, lifts his head and torso; I try to stretch up and capture his lips but he stays just out of reach, grinning at me.  I tighten my arms around his waist and pout, and he laughs.

“You’re adorable.”

“I’m not adorable,” I say, trying to maintain the pout and finding it immensely difficult.  “I’m annoyed.”

He tips his head to the side and gives me such a handsome, rakish smile that I forget the act I’m putting on.  “I love you,” he murmurs.

“I adore you,” I reply, and it comes out a rough whisper.

He closes his eyes and grins even more broadly, blushing, then brings one hand up to stroke my hair, lets his fingers linger on my skull behind my ear.  “I adore you, too.”

This time he lets me kiss him.

 

_-Simon-_

 

It’s quite a bit longer before I finally get out of bed and take a shower.  I have to shampoo my hair twice to get all the gunk out of it, and I promise myself again that I’ll never let anyone convince me to use hair product.  I didn’t even really like how it looked.

When I’m clean and dressed Baz heads in, and he takes a while.  I was never really aware of him in the mornings before, when we lived together, so I don’t know if this is normal.  I nearly always left for breakfast before he was even out of bed.

Breakfast is starting late today.  Not for another forty-five minutes.  But I’m hungry already, and feeling restless.

I guess I’ve got used to being up and going recently.  I started a part-time job at the Superdrug in Victoria Station -- yes, in central London -- about six weeks ago, and they’ve had me on opening shifts.  It takes me forty minutes on the Tube to get there and I start at half six on weekdays, so I’ve got used to being up with the sun.  I don’t mind it, really; I’ve never had a problem with mornings.  The only real issue is I have to wake Penny before I go so she can **_These aren’t the droids_ ** my wings and tail before I head out.

Penny seemed skeptical when I took the job at that Superdrug.  It’s not like I really _need_ the money; I’ve still got that leprechaun gold, and after all of the legal shit with the Mage shook out I inherited his estate.  Which was promptly liquidated for just shy of twenty thousand pounds, with some assorted crap left over I don’t know what to do with, so that’s stuck in storage at the Bunces’ house.  But even though I don’t _need_ a job, I want one.  I don’t want to be living on savings, and I want to have something to _do_ with myself until I start university.

The location of this job is the other sticking point with Penny, since there is a Superdrug in Hounslow that I could walk to.  But we’re moving in a couple of months, getting a flat near our universities, and I want to be able to keep this job.  It’s a pretty good gig, so far.  Refreshingly _Normal_.  And it feels nice to be doing something low-impact but still productive.  Plus it’s a boost to the ego that I’m always the tallest one there, so I get called when something needs reaching.  They started calling me “the human stepstool” on my second day.

Baz finally gets done in the bathroom, and he comes out wearing a gorgeous pair of jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt; my mouth goes dry.  He notices me staring, and smirks at me.  “I take it you like this outfit.”

“Uh,” I say.

He laughs softly, takes a green shirt out of his trunk and shrugs into it.  I am a bit disappointed that it covers his arms, but when he buttons it up it becomes clear how well it fits, so I don’t feel too much like I’m missing out.

“You don’t have much stuff here any more,” I say.

He shuts the trunk and latches it.  “No.  Father took a lot of it yesterday.  Everything that’s left here is going straight to Fiona’s with me.”

“Wow, so you really are just … moving to London.”

“I mean, yeah?  Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just … it’s sort of hard to believe we’ll actually be close to each other.”

A bright smile breaks across his face.  “I know, right?”

My heart does a jumpy flippy thing inside my chest.  “Yeah.”

He sits next to me on the bed, turned sideways with one leg pulled up and his hands on his ankle.  I can’t help looking at his bare toes, and he wiggles them slightly.  “I’ll be able to come see you at Penny’s, and you can come see me at Fiona’s.”  He leans marginally closer and licks his lips.  “You can sleep over.”

My heart flips over in my chest again, even harder, and I feel myself giving him a giddy grin.  “Like last night.”

“Like last night.”

“I really liked sleeping with you.”

“Me too,” he says.  “I loved it.”

I cup the back of his head and pull him into a kiss; his hair is still dripping wet.  I draw back after just a moment, but he keeps his eyes shut, jaw pushed slightly forward.  It occurs to me this must be how he looks when he’s kissing me.  It’s beautiful.

“I love you,” I murmur, and he opens his eyes slowly.

“Never stop saying that,” he says, and I’ve never heard him use this tone before.  It’s like he’s begging, like this coming from the bottom of his soul.  I’ve never heard him so earnest.

“I won’t,” I say, and it’s kind of difficult to get it out around the knot of emotion in my throat.  “I’ll tell you every day forever.”

He blinks at me a couple of times, his expression unreadable.  I’m sort of surprised myself, but … well, he said the same to me last night.  Essentially.  We’re kind of … committed to each other now.  I mean, I think we were before, too.  But we’ve said it now.

He’s not changing his mind about me.  We love each other.  I’ll never stop.

Eventually he clears his throat and looks down at his wrist.  “Oh.  Uh.”

“What?”

He stands up and looks around, patting his trouser pockets confusedly.  “I was going to say it must be time for breakfast but I’m not wearing my watch and I don’t know what time it is.”

“Bedside table,” I say.

His phone is lying there, as is his watch.  My phone is in my pocket, and I pull it out to check the time.  “Less than ten minutes until breakfast starts.  Do you eat in public now?”

He glances up from fastening his watch and scowls.  “What do you mean, _now_?  I eat in public.”

“I have literally never seen you eat in public.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention.”

I cross my arms and suppress a smile.  “Christmas.”

He rolls his eyes.  “That was because of my sisters.”

“But I never saw you eat here, either.”

“Aleister _Crowley_ ,” he growls, putting his hands on his forehead.  “What do you _care_?  Let’s just go to breakfast, you’re obnoxious when you don’t have food in your mouth.”

That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting, and it’s a slap in the face.  The insult itself stings, but mainly I’m far too shocked that he would suddenly say something like that to come up with a verbal response -- even if I tried I’d just stammer something, and he’d probably be an arse about that too.  So I keep my mouth shut, and I can feel myself blushing with a combination of anger at his words and shame that I _still_ can’t fight back effectively when he does this.  And damn it, I shouldn’t have to!  I was taking the piss, why’d he have to take it that way?

He’s out in the corridor, and he pauses at the top of the stairs, waiting for me, but with a shadow of a scowl still on his face.  I follow, shutting the door behind me a bit too hard and not making eye contact with him.  Once we’re outside I stuff my hands in my pockets, restraining my urge to pop him on the nose.  Things were so nice between us just a minute ago, what _happened_ there?  Why did he have to be so … so _Baz_?  (I’ve answered my own question.  I’m still angry.)

He seems to notice that I’m upset, and his body language changes; he becomes less upright, less certain of himself, and his stride slows.  “Simon?”

“Why do you always have to be such a twat?” I spit, and he recoils.

“What?  What are you talking about?”

“You! Upstairs!”  I pause, trying to collect myself, because otherwise I’ll just keep going with single-word sentences.  “I don’t know why you -- why can’t you just --”

It’s not working, and I can’t help making a frustrated noise through my nose.  To Baz’s credit, he just watches me silently, eyes wide.

After a minute I figure out the words I’m trying to use.  “I don’t understand why you’re acting like you don’t have issues about your fangs.  And I don’t understand why you’re such an arse to me when I just -- I _care_ about you.”

He stares at me for another moment before he looks quickly down at his feet.  “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are.”

He looks back at me with a frown.  “Only a couple of people know I’m a vampire.”

I flap my wings open behind me -- nobody has cast anything on them today, so they’re out in all their crimson glory.  “Baz, I’m a bloody _dragon._ ”

He makes an exasperated sound.  “You’re not really a dragon, and everybody knows why you’re like that.  Nobody wants to light you on fire for it.  Nobody thinks you should _die_.”

I’m taken aback by that, startled into something other than anger, something with a tender heart to it that squeezes my chest.  “Baz, nobody thinks you should die.”

He raises his eyebrows.  “I don’t know what world you’re living in, Simon, but I want to go there.  Mages want to kill vampires.  Fiona’s literal job is to hunt down monsters like me.”

“But not actually _you_ ,” I say.  “You’re not a _monster,_ Baz, you’re a good person.”

He looks a bit like he’s trying not to cry.  I guess I forget the scope of his problem, sometimes, since it’s so familiar to me.  And we haven’t really spent much time together recently, so I’m not exactly aware of the day-to-day reality of vampirism -- the vast majority of our shared experience comes down to last night.  Last night and our words of love and this closeness between us, which is still there, as close to me as my own heartbeat.  The anger’s blown over and this is what’s left and it’s still consuming me.

I step forward and throw my arms around him, holding him as tightly as I can.  He sags into me.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against my neck.

“I love you,” I whisper back, and his arms tighten around me briefly before he shifts his stance and kisses me.

There’s a lot behind this kiss, and I meet him equally.   _I love you_ suddenly feels like such an inadequate thing to say to him, and I don’t know what the right words would be, but this seems to be working.  He clings to me as I take control, trying to tell him everything I can’t say out loud.

We’re startled by a wolf whistle coming from the direction of Mummers House, and we break apart, turning to see Dev just coming out the front door of the building and waggling his eyebrows at us suggestively.  

“Finally shagged your roommate, eh, Baz?”

“None of your business,” he says crisply, but I think he’s blushing a little.

Dev raises his eyebrows and grins as he catches up to us -- we didn’t make it very far down the path.  “Come on, aren’t we mates?  You can tell me.”

Baz narrows his eyes.  “You’ve become exceptionally cheeky.”

Dev laughs at that.  “I’ve always been cheeky, you’ve just never been such an easy target.”

Baz turns and starts walking towards the Weeping Tower again, and Dev and I follow right behind.  “So tell me,” Dev says to me in a stage whisper, “how was he last night?”

I can feel the rush of blood to my face, but I can’t make myself answer, not even with a denial.  After several steps Dev sighs, apparently resigned to not getting anything out of me.  “I can’t believe how boring your relationship is.  When you two finally came out in front of everyone last night I thought it would be this big game-changer in the social structure, but Baz has been such a stick in the mud this term, it’s like nobody even cares any more.  They all just kind of rolled with it.”

Baz turns around, takes a couple stumbling steps backwards.  “Did you seriously just call me _boring?_ ”

“Yes,” Dev says.  “Yesterday was the first time I’ve seen you since like January that you didn’t have your nose in a book.”

“I care about academics!  I had to get into a good university.”

“You had your choice of the best anyway,” Dev returns.

“Maybe, but you changed too, after I told you about Simon,” Baz says.  “You and Niall started acting weird.”

Dev looks surprised by that.  “I didn’t!”

“Yeah, you did.  I thought you two wouldn’t be that way about me being gay, but I guess you were.”

“Woah, now, hold on.”  Dev grabs Baz’s elbow, and we all stop walking.  “I think we need to clear the air.”

“About what?” Baz says defensively.

“If me and Niall have been weird about anything, it wasn’t because you’re gay.  We already knew that.”

It's like Dev flipped a switch -- the irritation falls off Baz’s face, replaced by astonishment.  “You what?”

“We _knew,_ ” Dev says again.  “Niall figured it out first, back in fifth year.  We had a pool to see when you’d finally come out at school.  I won a fiver off him last night, he didn’t think you’d do it at all.”

Baz is staring at Dev as though he’s suddenly started speaking Norwegian.  “You _knew?_ ”

Dev rolls his eyes.  “I mean, did you forget we’re related?  It came through the family grapevine after you told your dad.  That’s when the pool started, when we knew for sure.”

“It’s been six _months_ since I thought I was coming out to you, and you never thought to tell me you already knew?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly give us a chance.  Closed yourself right off.”

Baz shakes his head, baffled.  “So, I mean … if it wasn’t that, then why?”

“It’s like we told you,” Dev says, and he looks at me again.  “It’s because of Snow here.  You being gay makes sense.  You carrying a torch for _him_ was a paradigm shift.  We didn’t know what to do with that.”

Baz reaches towards me, and I take his hand.  Suddenly I feel relieved, grounded; I hadn’t realised I was getting worked up.  “You’ll have to get used to us,” Baz says, quietly.

Dev tucks his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and looks between us.  “I am now.  Me and Niall, we both are.  I mean, I still don’t _get_ it, but I accept it.”

Baz squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back.  “I wish you’d told me before,” Baz says.

Dev shrugs.  “I didn’t think it would make a difference.”

We stand there silently for another minute; finally Baz clears his throat.  “Breakfast?”

“I’m starving,” I say, and Baz and Dev both give me little smiles.

“I’ll walk with you,” Dev says.  “But I’m meeting Amber.”

Baz snorts a laugh as we start walking.  “So you were being nosy about _my_ sex life because you haven’t got one of your own?”

Dev turns a bit pink.  “Yeah, well, she can’t get into Mummers House and I can’t get into the Cloisters, so we’re a bit stuck there.”

“She looked really nice last night,” I say, trying to make small talk.

Baz nods.  “Elegant.”

Dev turns a little pinker, but he’s smiling.  “Yeah, she was really something.”

“How long have you been together now?” I ask -- it’s not like I ever paid a lot of attention to Dev outside his connection to Baz, but I was friendly with Amber and I don’t recall her and Dev being a thing.

“Since October,” he says.  “But we got more serious in April.”

All the way back to _September_?  I must have been more distracted by Baz’s mysterious absence than I was admitting to myself.

Baz raises his eyebrows.  “More serious how?”

“My parents met her parents.  They came to visit on the same weekend and we all went to dinner in town.”

“Oh, wow,” Baz says.  “And that went well?”

“It was great,” Dev says.  “I convinced my dad we should go to a pub instead of that Chinese place, so that whole awkwardness got avoided.”

“Wait, isn’t Amber’s family Korean?” I say.

“Yep,” Dev says.  “Which would have made it even worse.”

Baz grins.  “I’m surprised your dad didn’t still find a way to be embarrassing.”

Dev rolls his eyes.  “Oh, he did.  But at least it wasn’t racist.”

“I don’t know why your mother married him.”

“Pitch women have odd taste in men,” Dev agrees.  “And, well … if you don’t mind me saying, it seems like the Pitch _men_ have odd taste in men as well.”

“Hey!” I say, blushing, and Dev smiles at me as Baz laughs.

“No offense, Snow.”

“How am I supposed to be not offended by that?”

“Don’t mind him,” Baz says, squeezing my hand.  “You start spending time with Dev and this’ll happen all the time.”

“He insulted you, as well,” I point out.

“Lovingly!” Dev says.

“You’ll get used to him,” Baz says.

I glance at Dev, and he gives me a look that I’m sure is reflected on my own face -- I like Baz, but this is quite sudden and I’m not sure that I _want_ to spend enough time with Dev to get used to him.  Until just now I wasn’t quite sure that he and Baz were even still friends … really, I’m still not quite sure.  I don’t know what their relationship dynamic was like before, so I don’t know if this is normal for them.

But they do seem comfortable with each other, which I suppose is a good thing, it’s good for Baz to have friends.  They chat while we walk, and once we get to the dining hall Dev spots Amber immediately and waves goodbye to us as he crosses to her.

The food is as good as it always is, and I feel much more myself once I’ve had something to eat.  There aren’t many people here right now -- I expect most of our classmates who stayed are still asleep -- and nobody comes to sit with us, so we have a quiet meal.  After we’ve finished we go for a walk in the hills above the school, not talking much, just meandering and holding hands interspersed with a few stolen kisses.

It’s a lovely way to pass the morning, but of course it doesn’t last long enough.  Fiona calls Baz to tell him that she’s arrived, which means it’s time for him to go.  We head back down to the school and he collects his things before we go out the front gate.

I wait under a tree and watch while he loads his trunk into the boot of his aunt’s car, without her help.  She’s leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette and looking sort of hung-over.  When he’s got his things stowed in the car his aunt says something to him, and he says something back, then they both look at me.  After a moment’s hesitation he turns away from the car and trots over to me.

“This is it.  I’m heading out.”

I nod.  “Yeah, okay.”

Which is such a _stupid_ thing to say to him, so after a couple of silent, awkward breaths I put my hand on his shoulder and kiss him, firmly, as confidently as I can.  We break apart after only a moment, both breathing hard.

He cups my cheek in his palm.  “I love you,” he says, earnestly.

This is such a magickal thing to be able to say to each other.  “I love you too,” I reply, and I’m trying not to let myself get teary-eyed.

“Last night was beautiful,” he murmurs, low enough that the people around us can’t hear.  “Thank you.”

I don’t know what to say; I swallow hard and lean into his touch.  

“I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Okay.”

“Hey.”  He rubs his thumb on my cheekbone, and I look up at him again.  The bright afternoon sunlight is catching in his hair and giving him a dark halo; he’s stunning and I can’t believe he’s _mine_.  “I’ll call you when I get there, and we’ll make some plans.  You can come see my new place.”

I try to smile.  “Okay.  I’ll talk to you soon.”

He gives me another peck, then trails his hand down my arm to tangle his fingers with mine.  “In a couple of hours.”

“Yeah.”

He steps back, sways in towards me again; it’s like he doesn’t know how to turn around and walk away, and it makes me feel a lot less like he’s leaving me.  (Even though I know it’s only for a few hours, a couple days -- after such close togetherness last night anything else feels like being abandoned.)

Finally I give his hand a squeeze, and he gives me a little smile before he turns back to Fiona and the car.  She drops her cigarette in the dirt and puts it out with her boot, then gives me a little salute and gets in.  Baz goes around to the passenger side and gives me a lingering look, then a slightly sad wave goodbye before he stoops and gets in himself.  The engine starts, the car pulls away, and I watch until they round the corner and disappear from view.

Anxiety tightens my chest and I pull my wings slightly around me; my tail is whipping around like it does when I’m agitated, and I wish it wasn’t such a huge fucking tell.  Just once I’d like to keep it to myself when I’m upset instead of broadcasting it to the world.   _Hey world, Simon Snow is having a panic episode._

My phone rings.  For one hopeful second I think it’s Baz, but it’s Penny’s ringtone.  I pull it out and try to sound casual.  “Hey, Pen.”

“Hey, Simon.  I’m about twenty minutes out, just wanted to let you know I’ll be there soon.  If you’re in the middle of shagging your boyfriend you should finish up.”

I feel like I should laugh, but I can’t.  “He just left with his aunt.  It’s only me now.”

“Oh, shit, really?  I thought he’d leave later in the day.”

She sounds distressed, like she didn’t want me to have to be here by myself.  I love her for it and my anxiety eases up a little.  “Guess not.”

“Well, anyway, I’ll be there soon.  Get your things together and I’ll meet you out front.”

“Okay, see you soon.  Drive safe.”

I hang up and stare at the phone for a moment before I put it in my pocket, and turn to go back through the gate.  It’s been propped open, luckily, and I head to Mummers House to get my things from my room one last time.

I hesitate in the doorway with my duffel bag on my shoulder.  The room is completely empty now, as it hasn’t been for eight years, since the day I first met Baz.  A lot is different now.  Everything is different, feels like.

I don’t know if I’m going to miss it.  The room, Watford, everything.  My therapist expects I will someday, but right now I’m still too tied up in the aftermath of last December to feel anything but uncomfortable in this place where I no longer belong.  I’m not a mage, I don’t live here, even Baz is gone now.  We had last night, and that was it.  Nothing’s left for me at Watford.

I pull the door shut behind me and head down the stairs, then outside.  I run into a couple of people who seem surprised to see me, and I can tell they’re trying not to stare at my wings and tail.  I know that everybody knew, but most of them only saw them for the first time at breakfast today.  And I know it’s shocking to see it -- even I still get surprised, and I see them every day.  I wonder if I’ll ever get used to them.  (What a horrifying thought -- that I’d have them for so long I get used to them.  I should talk to Dr Wellbelove sometime about if they could come off.)

I make my way back out to the makeshift car park by the outer gate, and sit down under the same tree where I was before.  There’s still a couple of cars out here, must be parents of other people in my class who are still doing who-knows-what at the school.  For all my excitement yesterday about coming back, I now find I’m anxious to leave, to put this place and those memories behind me.  Too much has happened here and I’m not in a space to deal with a lot of it right now.

I lean back against the tree and close my eyes.  It’s a lovely day, at any rate; sunny and warm without being hot, and there’s a gentle breeze.  If I focus on that I can pretend I’m not here, that I’m just in a field somewhere …

I open my eyes when I hear a car approaching, and once it gets close I can tell it’s Penny.  She stops at the far edge of the car park area -- she doesn’t want to come up to the gate at all, and last night she only did because I couldn’t get in on my own at all.  But today I walk over and meet her where she stops, and she smiles at me while I toss my bag in the back seat and then climb into the front.

“Hey, Simon,” she says.  “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s no problem,” I say, and I do actually mean it; I’m coming down now from the anxiety I was having when Baz left.  “Thanks for coming back, though.”

“You’re welcome.”  She pats my knee, then shifts the car back into gear and pulls out.  “Anyway, did you have a nice time?”

“I did, actually, yeah.  I mean, the ball wasn’t all that great, but seeing Baz is always worth it.”

Penny smiles and glances at me.  “You two are so sweet.  I’m really glad you’ve both finally pulled your heads out of your arses about each other.”

I can’t help chuckling.  “Yeah, well.  Who would have thought, right?”

“How was it with him last night, anyway?  You stayed in your old room, yeah?”

“‘Course I did, where else was I going to stay?”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Penny!”  I feel myself blushing -- I knew this was coming but I don’t know how to answer, so I fold my arms and look out the window, trying to avoid her.

“Come on, Simon, I’m your best friend, you’ve got to tell me.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“I drove all the way up here _twice_ just so you could see him, I think the least I deserve is a little kiss-and-tell.”

“That’s all it was, though,” I say.  “Kissing, I mean.  And we both slept in his bed.”

Penny whoops and punches the air.  “You _did_ sleep with him!”

“I didn’t!” I insist.  “We didn’t have sex, it was just sleeping.  My bed wasn’t made, and he asked me.”

“What _ever_ , Simon, it still counts.”

She looks very pleased with herself, and I can’t help smiling too.  I don’t know what it counts _as,_ but it was a step forward for us nevertheless.  And if this is the sort of thing that’s going to happen in life after Watford, I think I might actually be looking forward to it.


End file.
